Promise
by MisaFreak
Summary: Promise has always been protected, pampered and loved. When harsh reality throws itself in her face, can she find the strength she needs when everything goes wrong?


Promise

1.

When I was a small child, my eyes were so blue that my mother used to say that anyone would think I had been staring at the summer sky since before I was born. However, as I grew they darkened and became more the colour of the sky at midnight, like black and blue entertwined. My hair grew too, long and wavy and red, and richerthan my family.

Until I was a little older I didn't really know what being rich meant. I thought every little girl my age had a large, white Victorian mansion to live in and seven servants and a lush green estate complete with a private beach and swimming pool. I thought every person enjoyed lovely twisting garden paths and groves of fresh white lilies, all silky petals to touch and collect and inhale.

I was so very naive at the tender age of seven.

My mother didn't look like me. She was a porcelain doll, with long, straight golden hair, longer than Rapunzel's, I used to say. Some days she would let me brush it and the strands would shine as if silk under my childish clumsy fingers. When she was happy, her eyes, bluer than mine when I was born, would glow and glisten. If she was sad, they would be despondent pools of dark blue-grey. But when she was angry they gleamed sharply, stormy like the sea on a rough day. I tried my hardest never to make Mommy angry.

But I just couldn't seem to make her love me the way she loved my sisters, Faith and Charity.

Faith and Charity were twins, a year younger than me, sweeter and more cherubic-looking than anyone I ever saw. Miniature versions of Mommy, they had blonde, curly hair and large bright blue eyes, with freckles on their cheeks and noses and a small, fat pair of ruby-red lips. Faith in particular loved to dress up and play outside on her swing that our Daddy made when I was four. It was wide enough to fit all three of us on there, but Faith and Charity always wanted to go together.

The last person in our family was my Daddy. Daddy was only a little taller than Mommy, with wide shoulders and a deep, gentle voice that made me think of a still blue lake in late autumn. His hair was not as red as mine, but a richer, deeper auburn, thick and glossy like the wings of the pretty birds that swoopd around us whenever my sisters and I ventured outside. I wasn't quite sure what Daddy did that made so much money, but I knew it had something to do with our city council. Quite often meetings would be held at our house, in Daddy's study. The study was one place I was not allowed to go into, and neither my twin sisters. I would sometimes stand in the doorway, staring in at the stately furniture and huge fireplace and elegant bookcase stuffed with volumes of reading material.

Being seven, I had already been in school for a year and a half. Before I went to school, Daddy employed a tutor to teach me my numbers and letters, so that I would be ahead of my other classmates. I didn't mind losing my playing time. I was fascinated by the way letters merged together to become words, and practiced reading and writing and doing simple calculations right up to when I started at my new school.

I remember shaking in my shiny black Mary Janes as the banana-yellow bus rounded the corner and halted beside our mailbox. The doors opened and I was greeted by the face of the warmest, friendliest woman I had ever seen. Her hair was mousy and streaked through with light gray, and her eyes were kind and brown and welcomed me.

"Good morning," she smiled.

"Good morning, ma'am," I replied timidly. Mommy had taught me the proper addresses very early so that all her fashionable friends exclaimed and commented over how polite and sincere I was.

The bus was full of children of varying ages. They all wore the same dark blue uniform as me, except the girls wore skirts and blazers and the boys wore long slacks and white shirts. Some girls had their hair twisted up in plaits or pigtails. My hair was brushed out, a long thick length of bright shining red, and I wondered if these girls and boys wanted to be my friends.

Then I saw a little girl I knew, the daughter of my Daddy's best friend. Her name was Jenna Nakasaki and she was sitting awkwardly with another girl I didn't know. As the bus door closed and it moved along the street, I stared nervously back at my house. I hoped Daddy would remember to pick me up after school.

I went and asked if I could sit next to Jenna. She looked up at me and recognised me instantly. She smiled. I had always been jealous of Jenna's looks, even though I knew envy was a mortal sin. She had beautiful jet black hair, black as my sister Faith's cat, that shone and shivered with every movement of her head. Her skin was a yellowish-olive colour that was smooth and unfreckled, unlike mine, and she had these beautiful dark brown almond-shaped eyes. Jenna had been born in Japan and had moved to America very young, so that she could speak both her own language and English. But she spoke English better.

"Good morning," I said to Jenna.

"Good morning," said Jenna. "Do you know my friend ?" She indicated the girl sitting next to her.

"No, I don't think I do," I said, smiling at the girl. Her intense green eyes and pale skin contrasted with each other starkly, as did the violent strawberry-blonde mass that was her hair. Her full, dark pink lips that seemed a little too large and gaudy for her delicate face curled upwards in a friendly smile as she lifted her dainty hand out to me. I shook it and she said, "Hello, I'm Brianne Evans. What's your name?"

My name.

Always I had cursed my name. It was so strange, and rare, that people simply stared whenever I said my name and I had learned to hate it. But still, the sooner everyone knew it maybe they could get used to it I reasoned, and said hesitantly, "I'm Promise."

Brianne frowned. "That's a funny name. I like it, though. It suits you."

Relief surged through me. "Really?"

Brianne nodded.

We were almost to the school now and my nervous butterflies came back in droves and scores. "I don't know if I can do this," I said tensely to Jenna and Brianne.

"Of course you can, Promise, just remember we're doing this for the first time, too!" Jenna said. The bus parked in front of my new school and with delight I found I could read all of the sign as I left the bus.

_Oakwood Grammar Elementary School Since 1894_

"This school is pretty old," Jenna remarked as we entered the gates. I thought that it had lost none of its charm, however old it was. The buildings were tall, with beautifully faded red bricks forming them. The grounds were large, spacious and green with tall oak trees placed strategically around them. Other students were skipping rope, playing tag, catching and throwing balls and just sitting around and talking and laughing. I felt so nervous, my knees started to shake. I suddenly felt so small amidst this sea of larger children, all looking down on us with superior smiles.

"Where are we supposed to go?" I asked Jenna in a mortified whisper.

"I'll ask someone," Jenna declared, and walked boldly up to a much larger boy. He must have been about nine or ten years old, stocky with fair hair and surprised brown eyes.

"Could you please tell us where the new students are supposed to go?" she asked sweetly. The older boy looked taken aback by her spunk, then looked us over in approval. Approval of what, I didn't know. Maybe he recognised that he couldn't intimidate us.

"You're supposed to go to the Hall to be put into classes. That's over there and to your right," he pointed toward a building larger than the rest, half-concealed by another classroom.

"Thank you," Brianne said to the boy, and we walked purposefully toward the Hall.

"I cannot believe you talked to him!" I gasped to Jenna. "And I can't believe he actually answered you!"

Jenna shrugged, a bit of a gleam in her dark eyes.

When we reached the front entrance to the Hall, we found a group of teachers and a group of small children like myself about ten times larger sitting in front of them. Quickly, we sat down at the back and I hoped we hadn't missed anything important.

A tall, thin woman wearing a pencil-slim black skirt and white blouse paused when she saw us, then continued to speak about the rules of the school and what would be expected of us. I listened carefully to what she said about the code of conduct and especially the dress code, which included keeping our uniforms neat and clean and not defacing them in any way.

"You will have purchased your art smocks by now, and you are only to wear them during art classes, no other time," clipped the thin teacher, who I assumed was the principal of the school. "It doesn't matter if you splatter paint over your art smock, but anyone with paint or any other unsightliness on their clothes will be given detention. Your uniform shows that you are proud of your school, and of yourself and your achievements. How much you respect your school will show in your care with your school clothes."

She went on to talk about what we could buy at the cafeteria, explaining about the library booklending system and the student representative council.

"We have one student from each year level who will represent their level. This student is chosen very carefully, but we have a new one every year. More than half of you will never get to be on our student council, but those who are will be honoured for the ahievements."

After her speech we were all asked to stand and form lines quickly. I slipped in behind Brianne and waited for the teacher to call my name.

"Wells, Promise," called the teacher.

Taking a deep breath, I left my place and stood out the front with the teacher and some other boys and girls, which included Jenna, thankfully. I noticed hardly anyone saying anything about my unusual name, which made me feel more relaxed.

After everyone in my new class had been sorted, which also included Brianne, we went into our new classroom. It was a clean, bright place with cheerful yellow walls, rows of shiny single desks and cubbies at the back for our bookbags to go into. Jenna, Brianne and I found the cubbies with our names on them and got our exercise books and new pens and pencils from our bags. Then we found three seats together, sat down and whispered excitedly to each other. Rather than feeling nervous now, a pleasant feeling of contentment and wonder had spread right through my body. I was simply tingling with anticipation.

Our teacher called the roll to make sure everybody was in the right class, and then talked to us about what we would be doing in classes this week.

"On Wednesdays and Fridays you will have art from two o'clock onwards. Thursdays and Tuesdays are music at the same time, while Mondays will be spent here, with free time."

While she talked, I half-listened but studied the person who was going to prepare me for my long years of schooling that would follow this one. Her face was heart-shaped and her skin a pleasant tan. She had a small mole just under her bottom lip, near the end of her mouth. Her eyes moved about the class, taking us in, lingering on some students who were whispering and giggling. She wore the same black skirt and white blouse as the principal, with black sheer stockings and low-heeled patent leather shoes. Her honey-blonde hair was tied back in a chignon behind her head. She looked gentle and friendly, and I took an instant liking to her.

For the rest of the day we practised the letters of the alphabet, which I had no trouble with and soon got bored with. I talked happily with Jenna and Brianne as we worked, getting to know them better, and promised to invite them to my house sometime soon.

When I arrived home that afternoon Daddy had to leave immediately for some conference, and Mommy was out shopping with a friend visiting from Baltimore. Faith was playing at a friend's house.

The only person left to tell about my wonderful day was Charity. I found her sitting in the sandbox outside, under the huge oak tree. She wore a pretty white dress with puffed sleeves and her hair was adorned with ivory silk ribbons.

"Hello, Charity. Want to hear about my first day of school?" I asked her, kneeling beside the sandbox in the soft verdant grass so I wouldn't get sand in my uniform.

"Okay, Promise," she answered, in her childish way. She stopped sifting the sand through her pudgy fingers and wrapped her arms around her knees to listen. Her eyes grew larger and larger as I described the bus ride and the class I had.

"When will I get to go to school, too?" she demanded. "I want to go too!"

"When you're a little older, you can ride on the bus with me to school. Would you like that?" I asked her. She pouted for a little while longer, and then suddenly became the sweet angel I knew and loved again. "Will Faith go, too?"

"Faith will even be in your class," I told her.

"I heard Mommy say Faith will never go to school," Charity said sadly, tears drenching her eyes. "She said Faith is sick."

A cold hand seemed to squeeze my heart. I stared at Charity in shock, my happiness forgotten. "When? When did she say this?" Why hadn't Mommy told me? Surely I deserved to know. I was old enough - and Faith was my sister, my beautiful little sister.

Charity shrugged. "I heard her talking with Daddy in his study."

"Charity, you know you're not supposed to be in there," I said sternly, knowing that it didn't really matter anyway.

"I needed Mommy to tie a ribbon in my hair," Charity said, pointing to the white silk ribbons. She smiled widely. "Don't they look pretty, Promise?"

"Yes. Yes, they do," I said. "I have to go and get Faith from her friend's house now. I will be back soon."

"Bye, Promise," sang Charity. She swung her golden hair out of her face and started playing with the sand again. She started to hum the tune from her jewellery box as I walked away.

Before I went to find my sister, I changed out of my uniform and put on a light blue blouse and a long skirt. Carefully, I hung the navy blue blazer and skirt in my built-in wardrobe, not wanting to wrinkle it or risk it getting dirty. I left my Mary Janes on and informed the head housemaid where I was going. Then I set out for Jenna's house, where Faith was visiting with Chiaki, Jenna's younger sister.

"Good afternoon, Promise," said Jenna formally when she opened the door. I wondered at that, until I saw her mother hovering nearby.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Nakasaki." I said politely.

"Hello, Promise. Chiaki and Faith are just in Chiaki's playroom. I think Faith is ready to come home now. She said she wasn't feeling well not too long ago."

"Oh, no," I cried, racing past Jenna's mother to Chiaki's playroom. Fortunately I had been to Jenna's house before so I knew where everything was.

I burst through the door to find Chiaki, who was just as pretty as her sister, and Faith playing with dolls on the floor. Faith _looked_ fine, but I'd never seen her so pale faced before. Relieved to find her safe and sound, I drew her up off the floor and hugged her tightly to me.

"Promise, you're squashing me!"

"I'm sorry. I'm just so glad you're alright, Faith. We have to go home now." I held her close and looked down lovingly at her.

"Okay," she said, still puzzled by my abrupt entry. She took my hand and bid goodbye to Chiaki, who looked a little confused too.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness," I said contritely to Mrs Nakasaki as we passed her in the entryway. "I hope you will still allow Faith to play with Chiaki."

"Of course we will, Promise. Faith is the perfect guest and Chiaki enjoys play at your lovely house as well," Mrs Nakasaki assured me, smiling warmly.

"Thank you very much," I said, bowing to show my respect.

Jenna and I bowed to each other, a little less formally, and I told her I would see her on the bus the next morning.

Faith hung onto my hand the whole way home, telling about all the things Chiaki and her had done, and what they were going to do when they started school together.

"I hope you won't leave Charity out," I smiled, knowing that could never happen.

"I wouldn't do that!" she said, shocked.

"I know, Faith," I said, thinking how sweet she was. How innocent and loving. "I know."

And as she ran ahead of me up the stairs to our magnificent house, I truly thought that maybe Charity had been wrong or misheard what Mommy and Daddy were saying. I actually made myself believe that nothing was wrong with Faith.

She would always be my angelic sister, my wonderful sister.


End file.
